Here's a Story Dasiy
by ToNyEmBlEy
Summary: Merrill and Varric are alone in the Hawke estate at night. Merrill has thoughts troubling her, in an attempt to comfort her...they make a startling discovery.


Hawke's estate was actually very quite that night. Varric was sitting in the study writing the latest events down into the next chapter of Hawke's biography (one he hadn't quite authorized yet) He was finishing up when Merrill came walking into the room. She seemed particularly tired to Varric, not her usual cute and innocent self.

"Something the matter Daisy?" It was as if she didn't hear him, it looked as if she was thinking about something, rather hard. "Hellooo, Daisy?" After a few seconds she finally looked at him, only to appear sad, and slightly lonely. "Oh, I'm sorry Varric. I'm just thinking." Varric got up from his chair at the desk and sat down in a chair across from the Dalish Pariah. "Well what's on your mind." She just shook her head.

"It's a long story Varric. I don't think you would like to waste your time on it." The silver-tongued dwarf let out a loud chuckle before replying. "Daisy, haven't you figured out by now that I live on stories? Hell, I nearly make all my money from stories. Do you think people would admire Hawke as much if I didn't make him out to be a warrior god?" The elf smiled out the sound of her lover's name. "I'll sit down and shut up so you can speak."

She tried to stay quite, but she couldn't help it when Varric sat there waiting. "Oh fine, but I don't want you to trouble Ma Vhenan with this, he is already stressed as it is. He just got back from Anders' clinic because a blood-mage cursed his hand. Anders did his best, but he said it might be a day or two before the curse is gone, until then he cant pick up his sword." "But he apparently has the energy to make you scream his name?"

The elf's cheeks blazed red as Varric's jab brought back memories of what they had done only hours ago. "Varric!" His laughter died down as he grew more curios to what was troubling her. "I was just shitting you Daisy, just tell me what's bugging you." The Dalish outcast let a long withheld sigh.

"Did you know that I have no idea who my father is?" Varric didn't want to show her that he was actually shocked to the core. "I didn't, but please, go on." He stared at her with rapt attention. If this was a good enough story he wanted to memorize so he could "enhance" it with his own "brand" of storytelling. Most likely involving a father torn from his love by a war that was not his, but leaves her with child, so that he may live on.

With one more sigh she continued. "Well I don't, and my mother would never tell me about him, in fear that I would go looking for him, I wouldn't have but I still wished she had told me before I left that clan for Marethari's. Anyways I have never been the one to wallow in my own pity, but as of lately I cant help but let my thoughts wander to him. I wonder if he even knows about me, let alone thinks of me."

Varric couldn't help the wave of sorrow that washed over him for the young elf. "Ya know, Daisy I could relate. Feel like listening to and old moron's story of his first love?" Her head instantly shot up in interest, you could even see the small glint in her eyes. She loved to listen to Varric's stories, weather they were about Hawke's adventures that she herself had been on or the tales that came from his own imagination. The only stories she didn't like to hear were the one's that he and Isabella wrote together.

The elf moved from her chair to sit in front of Varric, cross-legged on the floor, next to the fire. As Varric cleared his throat she paid more attention than to any other story he had ever told before. "Nearly twenty years ago, I was a pretty young Dwarf, fresh out of that pit, Orzammar, and I was feeling a little rebellious. I was after the youngest of all my siblings and it was **hell** that I had to walk around with people comparing me to Bartrand. If they truly gave a rats ass about me or my family they would have known that Bartrand is just a damn fool with an age advantage."

"Well before I came to Kirkwall I was walking around the Brecilian Forest, not any particular reason. I was just a little different from most of the dwarves that left Orzammar. I wasn't afraid of "falling up into the sky" like others were. I loved being outside, feeling the wind on my skin, and breathing air that wasn't as stale as month-old bread. I just loved it. Then while I was walking along, from out of nowhere, an arrow flew past my head and stuck itself into the tree right next to me. The arrow had been fired from a master; it was fired to get my attention. I know this because nobody would miss me; the arrow had even grazed my cheek. It didn't cut to deep, just deep enough to draw blood."

Merrill was staring at him as he used his hands to play out the situation. "The first thing I did was jump behind cover, back then I wasn't to smart. Thankfully I have learned a few lessons. I know I should have said I meant no trouble, but I was young, and stupid. I pulled out my daggers an-" Merrill interrupted his story with a question. "Daggers, but why didn't you have Bianca with you?" "I hadn't met her yet Daisy." He continued as if nothing was said.

"The cloak I had on didn't match the environment very well, so I ditched it as I slunk to the next tree. Even with me being my stealthiest, every time I moved out of cover an arrow would fly past my face. Eventually I thought of a plan, see every time a limb of mine would peek from behind the tree I used for cover, an arrow would graze my skin. So I shrugged of my shirt and threw out to one side of the tree, just as I thought, an arrow pierced it. As quickly as I could I jumped out from the other side and threw one of my daggers at my attacker."

"It wasn't but a moment later that I heard a small whimper and I can tell you that I didn't expect to hear the sound of a whimper coming from what **I **thought was a man. I peeked my head from behind my cover to see if there was anybody there, but to my surprise I saw no one. No a single person. So I scouted the area a while until about 15 yards out I found a bow and quiver on the ground. The bow itself was finely crafted and looked as if it had been used on many a hunt. But upon closer inspection of the bow I could see the Dalish markings that riddled its craftsmanship."

"I couldn't help but look around for its owner. Nearly 20 minutes passed and I still hadn't found any clues to the owner's whereabouts. I knew that this was probably the bow of my attacker but we cant all be bloodthirsty monsters. So I gave one last look around, then a couple feet from my position I saw a small trail of blood. The leaves around the trail had been rustled and cleared so I figured she must have crawled away. So I followed it.

"About 30 feet away I found her, and my dagger was stuck right through her mid thigh. She was nearly unconscious, but she recognized her target. I tried my best to show her that I didn't mean harm, but she didn't trust me completely so she pulled a small dagger out as I neared her. To prove I meant to help, I pulled out all my weapons, including her bow and laid them at my feet, then kicked them away."

"I stood there with my hands up, shirtless, and holding a roll of bandages, I guess to her that was enough proof, or she just didn't want to die. Either way I'm glad she let me help her. She gave me a small nod and dropped her facade, she may have looked strong enough to kill me, even though she was injured, but when she dropped the dagger she looked as if she would die in mere seconds. I immediately went to work."

Merrill's eyes had never been wider. She never though Varric would go so far to help a stranger, and one that tried to kill him no less. And the fact that the female elf was Dalish had especially caught Merrill's attention.

" The dagger had missed her artery, thankfully, but it was still bleeding profusely. To stop it I ripped the shirt she was wearing over her mail in half and tied it tightly above the wound. I was a little angry that I didn't have a needle or stitches with me. So I got her some food from my back and started a small fire. By now she had gained a little more strength, but she was still cautious of me. She nearly cut my throat when I reached for my dagger."

"She didn't now why I reached for it but she was still willing to drop in me in a moment. "Listen to me when I say this, if you so much as put a finger on the blade, **this** one will be cutting your throat." She said to me. "Listen lady, I don't have any stitches on me, and unless you want to bleed out or lose your leg to an infection then let me help you. If I wanted to kill I would have already tried." It took some time but she did lower her blade."

"After the fire had grown enough I laid the tip of my dagger into the embers and pulled out a strong bottle of whisky that my brother had bought for a party, one that I ditched. I didn't want to seem like a pervert but she understood when I had to cut the leg of he bottoms off so that I could treat the wound. I held the open whisky bottle over her thigh and she nodded. As I poured it I tried to block out the muffled grunt of her pain."

"By now the tip of my dagger had grown hot enough. I pulled it out and warned her "I don't mean to cause you anymore pain, but this will hurt… a **lot**." I could see the fear in her eyes, but she was a strong lady. She gave me nod and I gave her a leather strap from my pack. Told her to bite down on it. As the glowing orange metal neared her skin I told her I was sorry…then pressed it to her torn flesh."

Merrill had tears in her eyes and was trying to keep from sniffling, but she was failing. "Daisy I don't want to get into detail about this part, but I will tell you this: Never in my life will I ever forget the sound of her muffled screams of agony." Merrill could see the pain in his eyes. She could tell that this wasn't one of his made up stories. This was _**true**_. He had actually _**loved** _this woman.

"After all was said and done, she was thankful, but exhausted. She wasn't recovered enough to travel and her camp was to far for me to leave her and contact them, so I decided that I would camp there with here until she was able to walk. As it turns out, she wasn't trying to kill me, she was afraid that I was an elf-hater and that I was hunting the Dalish, to sell their location to slavers. And could you blame 'er? After all they have been through and how they are treated?"

"But we spent a few days, doing nothing but talking and telling stories of each others culture. Me telling the stories of our paragons and the stories of the "Anvil of the Void". While she told stories of "The Dread Wolf and the war between the gods that he imprisoned. I came to adore her. Now I'm not a prude man so I can say this without anything but honesty: She was extraordinarily beautiful, absolutely stunning."

I would watch after her when she dozed, just so I could trace the pattern of her Vallaslin." Merrill was absolutely stunned that Varric remembered that, let alone knew what the markings on the Dalish elves were called. "One thing I liked about her the most was that she would talk in her sleep. I would stay up, just to listen to the dreams she was having, it was like being told a story."

The story was really catching at Merrill's heart when she realized it. Varric wasn't just telling her a story. He was reciting his memoirs, she rather enjoyed the Varric could speak of something other than heroes or villains. And she loved the look on his face. It was happy. Not that he never looked happy now, but this was…different.

"Then came one night that was colder than most, neither of us had real efficient covering so I let her wear my cloak, granted it was a little short in the sleeves but it kept her warm, but she said it wasn't enough. I shrugged it off and went to lay in the tent we had set up. I had nearly fallen asleep when I felt the tent rustle, I knew it was just her coming in to sleep, but what I didn't know is that she would lay in front of me and cuddle into me."

Merrill had expected that a little, but she didn't expect was the small blush that was making its way across Varric's cheeks. She stifled a little giggle and let him continue. "Now I thought she was just trying to warm up, but I realized she wasn't when she grabbed my arm and wrapped it around her waist. She turned to face me, with her gorgeous features, and for the first time- for the first time…she kissed me."

Merrill couldn't stop herself when she let out a long "Awww!" Varric just laughed it off and kept going. "Now, Daisy, I'm not Isabella, so I wont go into details. I'm just going to expect you to take a guess of what happened that night." All the hours Merrill had spent hanging out with Isabella had paid off. She gave a small nod.

"A couple weeks later of "young love" she was able to stand…and I traveled with her back to the Dalish camp. We both agreed that it wouldn't be possible to continue the relationship, with me leaving for Kirkwall and her having to move with the clan, but we did give each other something so that we would never forget those weeks we shared."

Merrill was instantly sad, Varric had lost his first love, all he had was a token of her. "What did she give you Varric?" She saw a hint of a smile play at his lips. "I'd rather not say Daisy." But even though he said no, his hand absent-mindedly stroked the necklace around his neck. "Well what did you give to her?" A flash of pain and love hit his face. As fast as it had arrived, it was gone. "I left her my Signet Ring and the Dagger the wounded her."

She could tell that telling this story was really hurting him "One last question Varric?" He gave a slow heavy nod. "What was her name?" Varric sat there, Merrill could have sworn that she saw a tear at the edge of his eye, but she never got the chance to find out as his hands rubbed across his face and through his shaggy blonde hair. He pulled out the tie and let it fall over his shoulders. "I don't kiss and tell." He said through small chuckles.

"So tell me about your mother, did she have the Vallaslin like yours?" Merrill gave him a quick nod. "Yes, but the pattern on her leg was interrupted by a burn she got when she a was a little girl. A forest fire had scorched her skin. And she always wore a…" Merrill gasped and stared up Varric. "…a crested ring…" Varric's eyes were locked into Merrill's as he stood up and walked over to where she was sitting. "Merrill…what was your mother's name?"

"She looked at him deep into his chocolate brown and eyes and answered his question with a whisper. "NeTheri."

At the sound of her name Varric fell to his knees gasping. Merrill started to piece the stories together…and when she did…she started to cry. She fell into Varric's arms on the floor. As she leaned her head his shoulder with his arms stroking her back, she could hear him whispering "Oh Daisy…my Daisy…my Daisy."

The father and daughter sat there weeping and holding each other, while Hawke stood just around the corner, walking back into his room with a smile on his face.


End file.
